Mother's Helping Hand

The next few days, things were normal. The days were getting warmer and Karen and Josh were spending more and more time outside. She would work by the pool and he would wade or do his exercises or read his homework. After supper they would shower together, then watch TV. Karen would feed him snacks and then they'd call it a night. In the showers she would feel his arousal, but he never got that hard and so Karen left well enough alone; if he had a need it was up to her to fulfill that need, but she wasn't about to volunteer.

So things went for a few days, but Karen knew that the time was approaching. His anxiety level was up a little. He got quickly frustrated with his homework, and he would make silly comments about the shows. It had been a week since she had brought him home, and so that next day found the two at the clinic so that his doctor could examine him and could get his bandages changed. They both wore comfortable jeans and tee-shirts.

In the waiting room she leafed through a magazine, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something odd about the clinic. It took her a while to realize that it was staffed by women. From the receptionist to the aids, to the x-ray techs, to the nurses they were all women. And perhaps because it was spring, or perhaps it was just her imagination, but Karen saw that women were not just good looking, but those colorful scrubs they wore seemed to fit just a bit snug. Buns jiggled, breasts bounced and swayed and everyone seemed so bubbly. And so it was that when one of the cuter little aids led Josh to the conference room, and Karen saw that look in the boy's eyes, she thought about what to expect that night in the shower. The aid called her to the conference room.

There Josh sat with a look that only a mother could understand. The doctor was an older woman, but she was still so very fine looking. She wore an open lab coat and the sweater beneath revealed what Karen could only think of as a "healthy cleavage'. She saw Josh keep darting his eyes away.

"Well then," the woman said brightly. "Josh is coming along quite nicely."

She asked them about how they were getting on at home, and Karen described a typical day, omitting the more personal parts.

"I must say, Josh," the MD said nodding. "You should be grateful for a very attentive mother."

"Oh," he almost stammered. "Oh I am."

"And I must also compliment you for being so diligent with your exercises. Your blood-pressure is perfect, and as you know stimulation is necessary, particularly with the smaller capillaries . . ."

She went on a while like that. And when Karen talked about the dry skin the woman said that she had chosen the right course of action, reminding them that the capillaries in the extremities were most important.

All the drive home through town they watched the girls. Winter coats and sweaters had given way to tank-tops and tee-shirts. And while Karen thought about capillaries, she knew that he was thinking about tits.

At home after lunch Karen sat poolside to work. Josh went to his room saying that he wanted to nap. His new bandages were smaller, and so much more comfortable. But they were just as stiff and just as scratchy. The morning at the clinic had been something. It was like there was nothing but boobs there, and if one nurse had a great rack then next was better.

When they changed his bandages they had him on a chair with one arm outstretched on a padded extension. That doctor worked on him from a weird angle; she sat with her back to his shoulder and leaned in on his arm. The result of that position was that the whole time she worked, her tits nestled against his arm. And then she did the same with the other. She was so soft and yet so firm, and her perfume was almost intoxicating. He didn't want to look at his hand, but in looking away his eyes landed on the nurse's breasts straining beneath her pink scrub shirt.

And all the drive home boobs were blossoming like flowers in the city. He groaned.

They had showered that morning before their visit, so there was no excuse. He thought to redouble his exercise routine and work up an extra heavy sweat, and he tried. But he just wasn't into it. After supper he went to watch TV while his mom did the dishes. He flipped to a sit-com that seemed like its sole purpose was to show off the women's breasts.

He turned the thing off. He couldn't take it any longer. He went to the bathroom and worked the bottle of lotion in the crook of his arm and went to the kitchen. His mom had her back to him, still doing dishes. He quietly set the bottle on the table.

"Um, mom," he said. "Can you help me?"

"Certainly sweetheart," she said without turning. "Just give me a sec."

Her jeans were tight and her ass was round. Reaching into the sink as she did her tee stretched and he saw the tracing of her bra against her back. He could even make out that it had only one clasp.

Karen drained and rinsed the sink. She took up a dishtowel, and wiping her hands she turned and said,

"What is it Josh?"

Then she saw the look in his eyes and the lotion on the table. She felt so sorry for the poor dear. She saw his eyes squint just a little with embarrassment, but she was not going to let that happen. She took immediate control of the situation.

"I understand perfectly," she said.

She laid the dishtowel at his feet.

He shivered as she drew down his underwear. He was already half hard. She reached for the oil and he watched her rub her hands with it, and again as she worked her tits squeezed and wiggled. Her first touch was sublime. Her already delicate hands were puffy from soaking in the hot dish water and so they were even softer. The oil was warm and the sensation was so luxurious. She worked him as she had before. She started with his balls. She slathered and rolled him between her hands and fingers. Again it tickled, but that tickle was the kindling to ignite his already smoldering desire.

She looked intent on her task and so she didn't see him staring down at her wiggling cleavage. The sight only added to the sense of pleasure he was feeling. Then she began stroking his shaft. This time she worked long and slow, and this time she stroked him with both hands. He was stiffening with her touch. He was warming beneath her hands and he felt the surge inside. Looking down he saw that she leaned in and he could feel the heat of her face. Her lips pursed just a little and he wondered.

But he broke away from that thought. His joy was rising and his climax gathering. He didn't resist this time. He didn't want to explode all in a wad on her. He felt his precum seeping and the slimy warm ooze made her hand slide so gracefully. He relaxed and let go. She stroked. The bliss built, and the orgasm welled in him. And then he felt his tube swell, his knob throb and then the tickling rose. His cock was smeared with oil and his semen and still she stroked and stroked. And this time when he came it was a lingering delight. Her hands had fallen into rhythm with his pulsing and as she caressed and pulled, his bursts of joy were timed with her movements. And with each new shot he was enveloped in that wonderful ecstasy.

When Karen felt the first of his semen ooze she knew she had been right. The boy had been building for days and today with all of the nubile flesh he had seen she thought it was no wonder that he had needed relief. She was happy for his release. She knew that he wasn't holding back this time. He was giving in to his delight and she helped him with that. Her hands were slimed with the oil and his jizz and she slathered and worked that jizz and oil all over his throbbing cock. She made sure to polish the head with her soft palms. She made sure to linger her thumb over that special spot. She made sure to hold him just right so that her hands slid easily over the warm, throbbing flesh. And when he began to cum she stroked him along with his pulsing. His first shot hit her on one breast and she wished that she had thought to remove her shirt. She pointed him away but still she caught a little more on her shirt before the rest splatted harmlessly on the dishtowel.

When he was done he was actually trembling.

She took up the cloth, dabbed and dried her breast and stomach, and then dabbed his dick. She fixed his underwear and his pants. And when she stood he thanked her, and this time he wasn't so shy.

"Let me just wash up," she said patting him on the cheek. "The Yankees are on tonight and I'm making nachos."